


The Winds of Fate

by LustyLadyJane



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Reality, Autism, Community: comment_fic, Friendship, Gen, Pre-Series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-05
Updated: 2012-04-05
Packaged: 2017-11-03 06:23:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 794
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/378286
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LustyLadyJane/pseuds/LustyLadyJane
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John Winchester didn't think anything could compare to the helplessness he felt as he watched his wife being butchered and burned to death. He was wrong.  </p>
<p><b>RATED FR-13</b> for Alcohol Abuse and Swearing<br/>Written for jennytork's prompt at the Comment-Fic Community on Livejournal. Minor edits made before posting to AO3. <b>Link to prompt:</b> http://comment-fic.livejournal.com/330137.html?thread=58839449#t58839449</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Winds of Fate

**Author's Note:**

  * For [jennytork](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=jennytork).



> * * *
> 
> **The Winds of Fate**  
>  One ship drives east and another drives west  
> With the selfsame winds that blow.  
> Tis the set of the sails  
> And not the gales  
> Which tells us the way to go.  
> Like the winds of the seas are the ways of fate,  
> As we voyage along through the life:  
> Tis the set of a soul  
> That decides its goal,  
> And not the calm or the strife.  
> \-- Ella Wheeler Wilcox
> 
> * * *

John set the empty whiskey bottle on the floor and carefully lined it up with the rest. His boots thudded on each step as he staggered up the stairs, and into the room he shared with the boys. The curtains were drawn for the baby’s nap, and he stumbled in the dim light. 

Bobby was out of the kitchen and halfway up the stairs before he turned back, frowning, to look at Dean. He was on his knees, staring at a spot of sunlight of the floor; or, maybe it was the dust motes floating in the patch of sunlight. Whichever it was, Bobby decided he’d be okay for a few minutes. He headed back upstairs just as John came out of the bedroom with a bunch of clothes in his hand. and disappeared into the bathroom. Bobby heard the shower running and closed his eyes in a brief prayer of thanks to anyone who might be listening. 

It had been three weeks since they found out what was wrong with the boy. John had been parked in that chair with a bottle in his hand ever since. The man wasn’t always drunk, but he always looked like wished he was drunk. He never looked at the boy once. He didn’t eat unless Bobby put it in front of him. He didn’t talk. He rarely moved, except to look up something in one of the books the doctor had recommended. 

When John came downstairs, Bobby was in the kitchen. He had the door propped open so he could keep an eye on Dean. Pointing to the freshly-brewed pot of coffee, he said. “Thought you could use some. There‘s leftover ham in the frig if you want a sandwich or something.”

John shook his head no, and leaned against the counter. He stared into his coffee cup the way Dean stared at that patch of sunlight. "How the hell do I raise an autistic child to be a Hunter?"

Bobby was stunned. What the man said was pure bullshit, but it was the first time he had actually used the word “autistic.“ Bobby didn’t know whether to hug him, or punch his teeth in. He settled for the bare-assed truth. “You don’t. You’ve got two choices, John. You can put Dean in an institution, the baby into foster care, and go after the thing that killed Mary. OR. You can quit hunting, settle down, and be a real father to those two boys. Or…” The word was out before the thought attached to it registered with his brain. “…you could stay here.” 

Bobby almost laughed at the look of confusion on John’s face. He managed to stifle it, but couldn’t stop a broad grin from spreading across his grizzled face as the idea took hold. “There’s a decent hospital not far away. The schools ain’t the best, but the teachers are good people. They care about the kids; that‘s more important than fancy equipment. We can add another bedroom at the back for you. Even put in your own bathroom if you want.” 

John’s mouth was opening and closing like a fish out of water. He made a gurgling noise that might have been a protest, but Bobby was on a roll. “If we swapped off manning the phones and plowing through the lore, it would make my life a lot easier. You’re just as likely to get leads through the books and from other hunters as you are tracking that yellow-eyed bastard. If you do need to hit the road for any reason, I can watch the boys.”

Barely pausing for breath, he played his hole card, “You’d be doing me a favor if you said yes. You know your way around an engine and can help me in the garage. If you’re here, it means I can go on a hunt without shutting down the yard, like I usually do. That’s legal money in our pockets.” He hesitated before adding softly, “Besides, I like having you and the boys around.”

John blinked rapidly, then raised his eyes to the ceiling. For the last couple of minutes, Sammy had been letting them know he was awake. John smiled slightly, and lowered his eyes to look into Bobby’s. “I’m in your debt, Bobby. Thank you.” He ran a hand through his wet hair and walked to the kitchen door. The sun had shifted position and Dean was no longer looking at it. His head was tilted to one side, his eyes unfocused -- or focused on some distant, unseen object. John strode through the room, back straight, shoulders square. As he passed Dean, he said gently, “It’s all right, Dean, Sammy’s just mad at being left out of things. He’s okay. We‘re all gonna be okay.”


End file.
